The Viscount's Vendetta (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (37 page)

“Please be seated.” Damon directed the Smittens to his left side and Hannah to the right of him. “My wife is not here. She has decided to stay with her parents.”

“How nice.” Mrs. Smitten smiled. “I’m sure they were glad to see her, but you must miss her terribly.”

“I must be honest.” Damon chose his words carefully. He paused, realizing this would be the first time Hannah was told of a permanent separation. Perhaps it was best to tell them all at once.

“Lady Royston and I have found we are not suited for each other. We have parted for good.”

Damon could not remember when Mrs. Smitten had ever been stunned into silence. Both her and her husband stared at him with disbelief. Hannah’s mouth dropped open. She started to speak, but stopped. Instead she glared at him angrily.

“Lord Royston, I cannot believe you would separate from such a kind lady. Why, she is everything that is personable and pleasing.” Mrs. Smitten’s eyes filled with tears. She looked across the table to Hannah. “You must talk some sense into your brother. Lady Royston will be shunned by society.”

His face flushed, and he swallowed around a tightening in his throat. This had definitely not been a good idea. Hannah stared at her plate.

“Lord Royston, I do not know what to say. I will pray for you and your lady.” Rev. Smitten shook his head.

The silence of the room pressed down on Damon. Rev. Smitten and his wife ate little and excused themselves early, leaving Damon feeling like a small boy who had been scolded.

Hannah spoke directly to him for the first time since his announcement. “I will be going to Aunt Elizabeth’s tomorrow, Damon. I love you, but I do not understand you or like your behavior.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I will leave early. Good night and good-bye.”

Damon stood in the foyer of his home, more isolated than he’d ever been in his life.

Even with her miles away, she disrupted his life. His neighbors, family, and servants cared more for her than him, who had grown up in their midst.

He went upstairs and fell into his chair by the fire. The candlelight shone on the table and brought his attention to the small journal. Caroline had handed it to him before she got into the carriage in London. The letter lay beside it. He recognized the letter as the one his father had written to apologize for his actions. Ignoring it, he reached for the journal.

When he looked at the pages, Damon recognized his father’s writing. Once he started reading, he was not able to close the diary. Some time passed before he read the last page. Questions swirled in his head.

It was obvious from his father’s words that he had discovered Charles was cheating him. In his last entry, he’d written he planned to confront Charles. Surely Charles hadn’t harmed Damon’s father over his discovery. Charles was family. But Father would have released him and sent him away. However, Damon doubted it would have gone any further.

Staring at the fireplace, Damon tried to remember the day of the shooting. He decided to go downstairs to his father’s study. He carried a lit candle with him. When he opened the door, he stood in the doorway as he had that morning.

He had run to his father where he had slumped over his desk. The gun had been lying by his father’s right hand, and there were papers on the desk. Damon moved further inside the room. He vaguely recalled a slight breeze moving loose papers that had blown to the floor. The French windows had been partially open. When had Charles arrived in the room?

Moving around his father’s study, he tried to remember but couldn’t. Everything had been such a blur and for years he had forced the memories away. However, he knew someone with a good memory. In the morning he’d check on Caroline’s dog, Gallant, and while he was there he would talk with Old Man Peter privately.

Damon tried to sleep. But the information he had read and Caroline’s worried look when she had given him the book flashed across his mind’s eye, over and over.

Have I been wrong? Caroline, have I sent you away because of my own stubbornness to even consider your concerns?
The gnawing pain of revenge was gone. In its place was an emptiness and darkness much worse.

He loved Caroline, but had not admitted it to himself because of his anger toward her father and her family in general. If Charles did have something to do with his father’s death, then he had also wronged Caroline’s father.

How had everything gone so awry? He had worked hard to repay his uncle and bring his estate back to its former glory. But his plan for revenge had tainted all he had done.

Damon twisted and turned throughout the night, trying to stop his thoughts, but they persisted until the first light of dawn when, worn out, he fell asleep.

* * * *

Caroline thought they’d never arrive at Atelstone. They stopped several nights on the road, and one night at her home. They’d left her father there. She felt an urgent need to get to Atelstone.

Nanny and Mary had encouraged her to eat and kept her wrapped warmly with warm stones at her feet. Still, a feeling of cold and fear wouldn’t leave her. Had Damon read the diary she gave him? If so, what would he do, and how would Charles act if confronted? Lord Harold Royston and his wife had noticed her agitation, but respectfully did not question her. They sensed her urgency and traveled as quickly as possible considering the distances between the two estates.

Caroline wondered if she’d be received, and where could she stay if he sent her away? She would not return to her childhood home.

Lord Harold Royston smiled across the carriage at Caroline. “We’ll arrive by midafternoon,” he said reassuringly. “I can see you are anxious to be with your husband.”

“I am not sure how he will receive me, but I am assured he will be glad to see the two of you.”

Lady Eleanor took Caroline’s cold hands between her warm ones. “Do not worry. I’m sure he’s missed you and will be overjoyed to welcome you home.”

Caroline smiled back, but did not believe Damon would be as overjoyed as Eleanor thought. She closed her eyes and wished for it. Her heart ached for the man she realized she loved and thought she had lost for good.

* * * *

After talking with Peter, Damon had spent several days scouring his father’s study. Peter said Charles had come up behind him through the French windows the day of the shooting, and appeared to be out of breath.

Peter admitted he had never liked Charles, and he had thought he was up to some kind of mischief. He had shared his suspicions regarding Charles with Damon’s father a few months before his death. Damon’s father had thanked him, but said nothing more.

Damon wasn’t sure what he was looking for in the study, but he sensed there must be more information hidden somewhere. He went around the room again, randomly moving books and pushing on others. What was that? He stopped and pushed on several books. One large book gave just slightly. He pulled it out and ran his fingers along the back of the wall. There was a tiny metal latch. He turned it left, and then right. The wall at the end of the room moved.

Walking over, Damon pulled the opening wider. Cobwebs covered the entrance into a dark recess. Damon glanced around and pulled the small covering off a near-by table. He brushed the cobwebs aside. Taking a lighted candle, he stepped into the dark passageway.

It was damp, but there was fresh air nearby. Damon walked carefully to his left. The walkway went some distance then, curved slightly, ending abruptly after the curve. Damon pushed against the wall. Then he noticed a similar small handle. When he turned it, the wall opened. Damon stepped out behind a tall lilac bush, and he was a short distance from the edge of the woods.

How clever. This was the area of the house closest to the woods. Damon closed the opening before anyone saw him. Retracing his steps, he went back to the start of the secret passageway. Damon had noticed a stairway on the right.

The stairs were old. He moved cautiously. At the top was a small door. Bending over he looked around for a handle. When he found it, he pushed it down and the door moved inward. His armoire moved and he was in his bedroom, or what had once been his father’s.

Damon had heard of old houses having hidden passageways, but he had never thought about one in his own home. He searched the back of the armoire. It would be a good place to hide something.

Yes, there it was. Down low, at the corner, he found another small latch which opened a hidden drawer. Inside he found several more papers with his father’s writing.

If Charles was the culprit, why had he not searched out the area and removed all the incriminating information? Peter had said he or his sons guarded the old house all these years. Perhaps Charles thought he was safe, and it wasn’t worth arousing suspicions by snooping around.

After all, if not for Caroline insisting on moving back here, the house would have been left empty to fall into disrepair and finally be torn down. Damon thought back to shortly after his father’s burial. Charles had been the only one to support his decision to have the house destroyed.

Damon took the papers and retraced his steps. He was relieved to see the study was empty. He rearranged the book shelves with no one being the wiser. Then he sat at his father’s desk and had started to read the papers when someone knocked on his door.

Charles glanced around the doorsill. “May I come in? I haven’t seen you today. It is unusual for you not to be outside riding. I was concerned. Are you ill?”

Damon gathered all the papers on his desk and put them in the right desk drawer. He motioned Charles in.

“I’m fine. I had paperwork to take care of regarding my business in London and correspondence to finish. Anyway, I know you are taking care of everything for me in regards to the estate.”

“I was worried you might be missing Lady Royston and thought you could use some company.”

“How thoughtful of you, Charles. Let’s go to the stables and saddle up for a ride out to the school site. I’ve been planning to see how the building is going on.”

“I thought you would want the work stopped since it was all Lady Royston’s idea. I sent the men back to their regular jobs.”

Damon’s hand paused as he was straightening his desk. He looked at Charles. “You stopped the work without consulting me?”

Charles flushed. “You have indicated I am in charge. Yes, I did.”

“You are in charge when I am away, Charles. When I am here you are to consult me on all things. Go right this minute and get those men back to work. The school might have been Caroline’s idea, but it is a good one, and one I mean to see completed.” Damon’s voice was harsh and cold.

Charles frowned. He started to say something but turned and walked away. It was in that moment Damon felt sure Charles had in some way been involved in his father’s death. For a second, he had seen anger and dislike in Charles’s eyes. It had been so quick he would have missed it, had not he already begun to have doubts about Charles.

The sound of a carriage in the driveway and voices raised brought Damon’s attention back to the present. He stepped out of the study and walked quickly toward the front door.

Charles stood on the bottom step frozen in mid-stride. His face went pale when a brown-haired man pulled him into an embrace.

“Charles, it has been so long. I can’t tell you how glad we are to see you.” The man stepped back and smiled at Charles.

Damon hurried down the steps. He looked beyond the man to the two ladies who had stepped out of the carriage. Caroline, his Caroline, had come home.

The stranger looked beyond Charles and saw Damon. He put out his hand. “May I introduce myself?” Harold motioned his wife to his side. “I am Charles’s brother, Harold Royston, and this is my wife, Eleanor.”

Damon noticed Charles’s face went paler, with a gray tinge to his skin. “It is good to make your acquaintance. I have planned many times to visit your home and meet you. I never did. I’m sorry to have been so remiss.” Damon looked at Caroline and smiled. “I see you have met my wife.”

“She has been most gracious to join us on our journey,” Harold said. Turning back to his brother, he smiled. “I see we have shocked you, dear brother. Perhaps we can talk later? After you have had a chance to recover from our surprise.”

Charles cleared his throat and nodded. “Later would be better. I was going on an errand for Lord Royston, so if you would excuse me.”

“Charles, send someone else with my message.” Damon interrupted his hurried departure.

“No, I must take care of this myself. I’m sure my brother and his wife are planning on staying a few days after coming this distance. We will have plenty of time to talk.” With that said, Charles rushed down the walk toward the stables.

“Please come in. I will have Mrs. Parker take you to your room. You must be tired and would like to freshen up.”

“I hope we are not inconveniencing you. We should have sent a messenger ahead, but everything happened quickly,” Harold explained.

“Not at all. You are very welcome.” Damon watched as Mrs. Parker took over and directed them upstairs to a guest room.

“Damon, I am sorry to dump all of this on you. I know you must be very angry with me. I can’t explain, but I sensed an urgency to bring the brothers together.”